"Political language -- and with variations this is true of all political parties, from Conservatives to Anarchists -- is designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind."
-- George Orwell, Politics and the English Language

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Friday, February 03, 2012

Slump Buster

If you weren't quite convinced yet that Mitt Romney is a soulless plutocrat douche, maybe this will help. Not that this is any sort of shock; one hectomillionaire endorsing another for political power is our nation's -- every nation's -- lifeblood.

Even if some putative working-class mook manages to Horatio Alger himself into high office, he is always and forever reminded of who really put him there; Obama is never going to rattle any cages, any more than Clinton would have. Life is long, after all, they are young, with young families and children with futures ahead of them. That is not a hint at dark conspiracy, just an understanding that sterling careers are built and mortared on not pissing the wrong people off, lest they get the idea that their pelf is better spent on someone more grateful.

All that said, there is something irredeemably, obscenely vulgar about watching this ancient lounge lizard, orange-y pelt glued to the top of a phrenologist's wet dream, leathered facial hide bronzed with the blood of a thousand Eastern European escorts and the sweat of a thousand Guatemalan maids, throwing his imaginary weight behind perhaps the least popular Republican candidate in recent memory. Romney is so white, he makes me -- whose LA street nickname was "Cracker McCrackerton" -- look like Malcolm X. (Okay, slightly repurposed Paul Mooney smackdown about Wayne Brady. Thanks, Mr. Mooney.)

There is something grimly funny about watching this white, uptight, and outtasite super-Mormon sell his ass to a modern-day Caligula, a man who earned the honorific "short-fingered vulgarian", an unrepentant power tool who flirted with the pretense of entering the race as a publicity stunt last year, and just last week had his minions issue a proclamation that, were he sufficiently genuflected to, he might consider running as a third-party candidate. Of course, that idea fell by the wayside when Trump's natural pick for a running mate had to maintain his day job coercing bodacious retards to drink donkey jism. (Their parents must be so proud. Why not just do gang-bang porn and be done with it, girls?)

Anyway, is there a better sign for the state of the nation and the electorate than this -- a pretend bidnessman who can't even keep from going bankrupt in the casino racket, an industry several layers deep in corruption, a man who communicates routinely in cheap and increasingly desperate publicity stunts, deigning to grant his official imprimatur to a corporate android, a vulture capitalist grown rich from the usury generated by the American jobs he squashed and sent to Asia and pocketed the difference?

And Romney is so widely and deeply loathed, both by his base and the party establishment, that he has to sit there and take the venereal gift of Trump's approval like he wanted it. Just hours after crowing over beating the toxic turd Gingrich in Florida. Bwahahaha. And here I'm picking on the chicks drinking donkey chowder for the amusement of whatever inbred troglodytes watch that reality show. This reality show is becoming much more debasing. Next thing you know, Romney's going to have to let Meat Loaf and Gary Busey feel him up for Trump's amusement, just to try to squeak a bump in the coveted extra-chromosome demo.

You know, America, as long as you keep Trump on the air by watching his dumb-ass show, this is all your fucking fault.